


Rupture

by Pearly_Pornography



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Crying, Gore, Guro, Hospitals, Other, Surgery, Urination, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-28 16:53:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6337393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Edd is out on holiday, Tom is hospitalized.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rupture

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone's wondering why edd is never in these i just feel kind of weird having him in what's basically self-indulgent gore fanfics like no hes too pure
> 
> thats just a me problem though
> 
> someone vaguely requested this. i wasnt able to squeeze in Tom going into a coma but i DID squeeze in a THROAT SURGERY which is also pretty good

It began late the night prior. Edd was on holiday and Tord was prepared to make the most out of being surrounded by incompetents who won't tell him what to do. He rented a copy of "Narcoleptic Vampire Strippers From India 9", got all of the losers into the living room and popped it in. It was decent, though not nearly as good as the 7th or 8th installments of the NVSFI series. The most bothersome part of it all was just Tom.

Tord couldn't stand that bastard. As soon as he invited Tom to watch a movie, the first thing he did was run off to go get all of the Smirnoff in the house. He stank of whiskey the whole way through.

The night was absolutely ruined by that bullshit.

After awhile, of course Tom became a rampaging drunk as he did every other night. He poked Tord's face, he tried to shave his legs with a butterfly knife, and was generally just an idiot. As soon as the comment 'I just puked inside of my mouth' was uttered, Matt immediately carried his little friend to the bathroom.

"You're missing the part where Slutface fires a gun with her tits."

"Tom's sick!"

Tord didn't think much of the response, and simply laid back. He'd seen this one a few times. Then Matt repeated. "Tord, Tom's really sick!"

"Of course he's sick, he just drank 19 bottles of Smirnoff."

"No, like, he just spat blood!"

Shit. Tord paused the movie, running into the bathroom. Tom was hunched over the porcelain bowl, twitching. "The first one was just regular puke, but it came out really hard. I think he hurt himself."

"Does...does anything hurt?"

"Ches..." Tom swallowed mid-word, coughing out into the filthy water. "Chest."

"Fucking hell. I'll go call 999, but I get the feeling they're tired of coming here. Matt, watch him for me."

"Alright!" Matt nodded, putting a hand on Tom's back. Despite having the IQ of an empty bottle of maple syrup, Matt was a real pal. 

The phone call was uninteresting. He gave their address, he gave the problem, blah blah blah. Honestly it was harder to do when the only background noise was Tom hacking up his internal organs or whatever he was doing.

"He's really warm" Matt commented from down the hall.

"As in, he has a normal body temperature, or he's feverish?"

"The latter."

Tord returned to the bathroom after hanging up. Tom was a sweating, vomiting mess. Not to mention he had wet himself all over the floor as a product of being piss-drunk. Matt was loosely draped over him, rubbing his back and softly whispering in his ear. Tord sighed. "Ambulance should be coming soon."

"Oh, thank goodness! Alright, Tom, it's gonna be okay."

Tom had passed out with his neck hung over the lip of the toilet.

-

-

"Doctor says there's a tear in his esophagus."

"What's that mean?" Matt tapped nervously on the car's armrest. "Aren't we going to bring Tom home before leaving, Tord?"

"You idiot." Tord sighed. "He puked so hard his throat tore open. He needs surgery."

"Surgery?!"

"Yeah..." Tord put his face to his hand. His lips twitched. "The wound was so bad they said they might need to transplant his esophagus entirely. Not sure what I'm more worried about - him dying, or the bills."

"Is Tom gonna die?"

"I don't think so. I'm just paranoid."

"But I thought you hated him."

"Doesn't mean I want him dead, dumbass."

Matt looked away. 

"I don't want to think about it. Let's go home."

So they drove through the night, moon hanging over the sky. Tord didn't want to say he was worried. He didn't want to say he was worried about Tom. All he did before that was waste space, and perhaps, that was the worst part. Tom wouldn't be there to waste space.

-

-

It was a week before he finally had the guts to go visit Tom. Matt had already been there many times. Many of those times he took selfies with Tom, who looked like he was in horrible pain and didn't feel like dealing with this. He looked pale, and disgusting, like a rotting corpse. A good number of the photos his lips were dabbed with blood as he had just finished vomiting. But it was merely a day before the surgery, and Matt forced Tord to go visit the hospital.

Poor bastard looked disgusting.

"Did...Did you bring me a drink?"

"Sure did!" Matt immediately pulled open a bag. Tord smacked his hand.

"Are you an idiot? That's just going to make things worse."

"But I bring Tom these every time..."

"He got this way because of alcohol, dumbass."

Tom rolled his eyes, or at least as much as he could without them being there. He then leaned over, grabbing his stomach and retching blood into a bucket beside him. The moment of sickness was punctuated by a few mumbled swears, before Tom messily wiped the claret from his lips. 

"Tord, don't be a hardass."

"Die after the surgery? Fine. Whatever. Die before the surgery? That's just bullshit."

"'m just takin' my mind off the pain..."

"You're drunk. Jesus Matt, why would you give him more vodka?"

Matt nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Nobody expected any better of him, quite frankly, so Tord left it at that. "Anyway, I'm guessing it'll turn out alright. There's nothing to worry about except your fucking addictions, idiot."

"...Mmh." Tom squirmed back under the blankets, staring at the window. "Just go home already."

-

-

"Todd, why'd you call Tim an idiot?"

"I'm Tord, he's Tom, and that's because he is an idiot."

"You made him sad. Now he's gonna die!"

"Matt, he's going to be fine. Swallowing stuff is painful when you have a tear in the throat, stupid."

"Then why'd he ask me for a drink?"

"Because he's an alcoholic."

"Oh..." Matt blinked, staring back at the moving road. "When are we gonna get to see Tom again? I hate not having him around, even if he's boring. It isn't that great when he's not around."

"Yeah, I know."

"But you hate him, Tord!"

"...That might be an overstatement, when I think about it."

His ginger-haired friend looked confused. Tord didn't need him to understand. Honestly, it was better if he didn't. The rest of the car ride was quiet, occasionally interrupted by Matt pointing out random things on the side of the street. They stayed separate during the night. Tord checked the fridge at night to find two bottles of Smirnoff missing. Matt returned to the fridge an hour later, and found two more had gone. Tom was not the only one who drank away his loneliness.

-

-

Technically speaking he wasn't supposed to come until a day after the surgery. Also technically speaking, visiting hours did not include midnight. But Tord was buzzed, lonely, and almost felt like he owed it to Tom.

His friend, maybe?

There had been no word on Tom's condition. As Tord used his army-honed capabilities to climb the outer wall of the building, he saw the lights were off in every room. But he could see Tom's abnormal haircut through the darkness, and tapped on the window. Tom's figure rose from the bed, and beckoned him with an IV-stabbed arm. Tord pulled the window open.

"What're you doing here." Tom sounded tired.

"Wanted to make sure the surgery went alright."

"My throat still hurts a lot. But I feel better."

"You don't need to say anything, stupid." Tord crawled into the crappy hospital bed right beside him. "This isn't too much of a health hazard, is it?"

"You're going to get in trouble tomorrow."

"Not if I leave before they find me."

"...Then go ahead and stay."


End file.
